We had a hugely hectic weekend this past weekend. We had my daughter's birthday party, with 20 kids (!), plus a neighborhood get together, plus family and a friend in town, plus my daughter attended another child's birthday. On top of all of that, on Sunday morning our 14 year old cat died. I adopted her when she was about 3 or 4 months old during my first year in college. It's hard enough to loose a pet, but to have to tell your child that a pet they love has died is heartbreaking. There are no shortcuts to that, no easy way out. It's pretty clear that she'll notice the cat has disappeared, so not saying anything is not an option. Surprisingly, Seven has taken the news incredibly well. Of course she cried, as one would expect. She has now started calling a gray stuffed cat that we gave her years ago because it looked like our cat, Sophie - a tribute to our lost family member. Sophie, the stuffed cat, now travels around the house with our daughter, the play thing the real pet would never be. We held off telling her for several hours on Sunday, ostensibly so she could enjoy the birthday party she had that afternoon. But, in reality, I'm not sure I could have talked to her that morning. I will miss my sweet cat, and I know our daughter will miss her fiercely. Sweet dreams, Sophie Cat.
